


Exploration

by HollowPitcher



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Hand Job, Other, Present Tense, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, pre-Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowPitcher/pseuds/HollowPitcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigma is curious. Maine is just tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploration

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place soon after implantation.

Maine shifts uncomfortably and tries to ignore the memories Sigma is pulling to the surface. The AI examines each one closely, open curiosity obvious, before moving onto the next. Some of them aren't even real memories, snippets of fantasy that Maine doesn't think about except on the loneliest of nights. Sigma is thorough and pulls up thoughts Maine had long forgotten having. Why would his brain hold onto such useless shit? Battle strategies and tactics would be a lot more useful than the veritable porn shop he apparently has stored in his brain. Maine notices the slideshow of memories has stopped. Sigma is paying attention to Maine's conscious mind, curiosity and interest and excitement obvious. 

_Touch yourself_

"What?" It comes our more like a garbled growl. Sigma understands anyway, of course. 

_Touch yourself. Like you do here._ A clipshow of private moments that leaves Maine dizzy and slightly nauseous. 

Maine doesn't move. This is too fucking weird and he thinks maybe he should have pulled the AI before going to bed (Sigma flares with alarm at that thought but doesn't interrupt, avidly watching as thoughts form and lead to the next). Does Wyoming have to deal with this? Maine can't imagine the robot-like Gamma even thinking of doing something like this. 

_Gamma is more complex than you think_

Maine feels momentary relief that the conversation has switched gears, and immediately regrets bringing it to Sigma's attention. A single memory plays this time, a dream. Maine can feel lips on his neck and he hates how deeply the AI can pull him into his own mind. He's breathing heavier now and he only notices because Sigma notices and the AI hasn't yet learnt how to keep its thoughts to itself. Maybe it never will. Maine thinks again of Wyoming and his AI and Sigma latches onto it and folds two memories together, the kisses on Maine's neck now include the scratch of a moustache. 

"No." 

Maine is unyielding. He's accepted some freaky shit is about to happen but he'd like to be able to look his teammate in the eye when this is over. Sigma backs off and the sensations return to generic lips. 

_Touch yourself_

This time Maine obeys, sliding a hand past the waistband of his boxers, the only clothing he wears to bed. He's half hard and hot and he already knows this isn't going to take long. There's the ghost of a body on top of him, Sigma simulating touches from Maine's memories as best it can. All the while observing and damn if Maine isn't starting to find that kind of hot. He lets himself be enveloped by the memory of a dream and the hand on himself is no longer his but someone else with a firm, sure grip. Maine squirms a bit when the thumb flicks over the tip and he's about ready to come when the hand leaves his cock, trailing over his pelvis and thighs. The touches are too much and not enough and if this asshole doesn't stop teasing him 

_Put your fingers in your mouth_

Maine does, lifting his other hand from where it's been clutching the sheet. His fingers taste like salt and skin. The other hand is still teasing him, barely touching the base of his rock-hard cock before returning to tracing patterns and shapes on his thighs. Maine wishes he could speak just so he could tell it to fuck off. To beg for more. Instead he sucks harder on his fingers, running his tongue over them in all the ways he wishes a tongue was running over his cock, pleading with nobody. 

_Well alright. Since you asked so nicely_

The hand grasps him once more and Maine can't take it. He bites down on his fingers to distract from the overwhelming sensation but he still hasn't come and what the fuck? Maine likes to think of himself as a marathon runner rather than a sprinter(Hello, ladies) but this is too much and it's been too much for too long. He's coming apart and this almost isn't fun anymore. 

_Ask_

Maine doesn't understand what the voice wants, he barely can focus enough to understand the words. _Fuck_ why can't he come? 

_Ask for what you want. And I'll give it_

_Please_ , he just wants to come and that fucking hand is still going still squeezing and the fingers in his mouth are sore from where he keeps biting down and there's drool leaking out the corner of his mouth and he's not sure how much more of this he can take but he's been past his limit for ages now and 

_Alright. You can come_

And Maine does, hard. The hand strokes him through the aftershocks, the stars fading from his eyes. Maine slowly becomes aware of how sore he is. His dick feels chaffed and dry and he's glad when the hand stops touching him. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth and it hurts to wipe them dry on the sheets. They'll be bruised tomorrow for sure. Hopefully it won't effect his ability to hold a gun. He's hot and sticky and sweaty and he really should shower before falling asleep. But his eyelids are heavy and it's late. Sigma kept him up with its perusal of his memories. That thought reminds him of something, a slow coil of apprehension winding in his stomach. He fights a losing battle against the exhaustion creeping over him. 

"Did you just take over my body? My hand?" 

If Sigma responds Maine doesn't hear it as he slips into a long, deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> My cat watched me write this and I can feel her disapproval from across the room.


End file.
